


If Flowers, Then Date

by TigerDragon



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU - Comicverse, Zatanna (Comics)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/F, First Date, Friends to Lovers, Implied Bondage, Innuendo, Magic, flowcharts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerDragon/pseuds/TigerDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things that Barbara Gordon, formerly Batgirl and currently Oracle, does well. Hacking and information gathering, of course, but also martial arts, strategy, team leadership, wheelchair-assisted basketball.... well, you get the idea. The list goes on. </p><p>What she <i>doesn't</i> do well, however, is relax. Never has. Fortunately, she has friends more than willing to help her out with that. Of course, some of those friends are more willing than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Flowers, Then Date

Barbara Gordon had never imagined that she might actively consider eating something that had recently been on fire, much less doing so more than once.

Zatanna had called Barbara on her personal line the night before. Did she want to have a fancy night out? If she said no, the Oracle could look forward to another few hours of programming, movies, and/or takeout. If she said yes, Zatanna would take her out to a wine bar, art exhibit, and white-tie magic show starring herself. (Modesty was not one of Zatanna’s virtues.)

Barbara had said yes. Then she’d had to decide on her outfit (if white, likely to spill wine; if blue, brings out color of eyes) and strategize the best way to get the zipper closed. Then the wine bar and the endless menu that she’d forced the waiter to simplify, and appetizer choice (if _camarones_ , could get shells caught in teeth; if _chopitos_ , oil on fingers). Oily fingers it was, with a nice Pinot grigio. Zatanna had laughed and cleaned Barbara's hands with the cloth napkin instead of letting her do it for herself. It had been unexpectedly inoffensive.

The art gallery had on loan a collection of vivid glass sculptures that looked like huge flowers or vines or strange, abstract objects. There hadn’t been any choices to make there, so Barbara just let Zatanna lead her around the exhibit, the power chair humming quietly under her, the magician’s enthusiasm for the display quietly infectious.

Then the dinner theater where Zatanna was performing. Barbara had almost considered deliberately dropping things to see the flock of waiters spring into action (if yes, amusing; if no, less distraction and fewer angry patrons). Zatanna had asked to order for her (if yes, surprise--uncertain if good or bad; if no, various decisions for which she had inadequate data) and she had accepted the magician’s authority on the menu. Steak kabobs weren’t her usual order, but were excellent. The wine was good, but heady (if one glass, maintain dignity and mental function; if two glasses, too relaxed/impaired for comfort). The food was pleasant without distracting from the show.

Zatanna was on her best game, it seemed. She played to the audience with charm and style, and the whole room was enthralled, Barbara included. She was sorry when it was over; it signaled the end of the evening, when Zatanna would smile good-night, Barbara would return home where her bedtime self-care chores were waiting. Boring and somewhat lonely, if she were honest with herself.

The waiters arrived again, but not to clear her table. The lead was carrying, carefully and at arm’s length, what looked like a volcano made of chocolate, all the more convincing for the real fire blazing from the top. A second waiter whisked away the remaining dishes from Barbara’s table, and a third placed a dainty dessert spoon at the top of her place setting. When the cake was placed in front of her, she leaned back, the heat from the flames warming her face.

“Does it go out on its own?” she asked. (If no, intervention required. Available options: douse with water glass, smother with almost-empty salad bowl from neighboring table, dump on floor and smash with floral centerpiece.)

“ _Esuod_ ,” Zatanna commanded from behind her, and the flames obediently went out. The magician circled the table, performing a little flourish with her white top-hat and smiling broadly. “It does,” she explained cheerfully, “but it’s more fun if I do it. May I join you?” It was unjust how effortlessly she managed the elaborate white dress, party wrap and long white gloves she’d dressed in for the performance, not to mention the unbound fall of her dark hair, but it was difficult to be properly annoyed when she was so obviously determined to ensure Barbara enjoyed herself.

Gesturing to the empty chair across the table, Barbara smiled. “I still don’t know how you did the disappearing cane.”

“A trick Barbara Gordon can’t figure out.” Zatanna laughed and pressed her fingertips to her heart. “My life is complete at last.”

“Good,” the librarian laughed along. “I enjoyed tonight so much, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to return the favor.”

“The pleasure is entirely mine.” Zatanna lifted a fork, took a bite from the cooling lava cake, then made a little sigh of delight as she cleaned the chocolate off her own lips. “But please, not the past tense. The night’s not over yet.”

Her own fork halfway to her mouth, Barbara paused for a half-heartbeat. Had this been a date? The chocolate was a delicious way to kill time while she considered the question.

Her interactions with Zatanna had almost all been professional. Their only social contact had been tonight and the last night she ever went dancing, and even that had been a group event. Had she ever been alone with Zatanna before outside of Justice League business?

Zatanna looked up from another fork of cake, caught her looking, smiled. “ _Srewolf_ ,” she said with chocolate still on her lips, and the table suddenly overflowed with a ring of white and red roses accented with purple dahlias.

It was definitely a date.

“They’re beautiful,” Barbara murmured.  “How did you know dahlias are my favorite?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Zatanna replied softly, reaching out to catch Barbara’s left hand between both white gloves and cradling it as firmly-but-gently as she had the doves on stage. Then her smile turned playful. “Not at dinner, anyway.”

The diamond choker Zatanna had chosen as an accent to the formal gown drew a great deal of attention to both the fine bones of her neck and the generosity of her cleavage.  It was a fact she would have, only minutes ago, dispassionately attached to the magician’s file. Dispassionate was decidedly not the word for her present state.

She was interested. And apparently interesting, which hadn’t crossed her mind lately, suggesting internalized ableism that she should really examine.

Later.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Barbara’s face. She cupped a dahlia bloom in her fingers (strong and slender, one of her best features according to Richard) and brought it up to enjoy the scent. Zatanna’s eyes followed, which suggested that she agreed about the attractiveness of Barbara’s hands. She let her lips brush the petals, making sure to look Zatanna in the eye as she did so.

The way the magician’s pupils dilated was very satisfying.

“I have a big hotel room,” Zatanna stumbled out, then flushed in a way that suggested it hadn’t been at all what she was planning to say. Barbara leaned back, grinning, and tucked the flower into her updo.

“That sounds like it bears examination,” the Oracle murmured. “Big enough for a magician’s secrets?”

“Secrets. Party favors. A brass band. A Main Street parade.” Zatanna visibly gave up trying to hide her eagerness and looked Barbara fully in the eye, leaning close enough to offer her throat invitingly in the process. “How big would you like it to be?”

Wrapping her left hand around the silk-clad warmth of Zatanna’s wrist and reaching out with her right to trace the sparkle of the choker (pulse elevated, skin warm, eyes dilated - positive signs), Barbara smiled. “Enough for a bed, champagne bucket and a power chair.”

“I won’t even have to make it bigger on the inside, then,” Zatanna sighed, half-lidding her eyes and smiling like a particularly sun-drenched cat. “I look forward to making your night memorable, Barbara Gordon.”

The lava cake had already taken a place on her list of notable memories (one she would be ensuring was repeated more often), but Barbara was not opposed to discovering two new pleasures in one night. The spirit of scientific exploration, after all, required one to be flexible and open-minded. Besides which, she’d never had the opportunity to practice knots on a professional escape artist before.

It would also be fun to find out if Zatanna could do the scarf trick without anywhere to keep them.

**Author's Note:**

> L33t wordcount by accident. Or divine intervention. Or maybe Barbara hacked it - you never know with her.
> 
> Inspiration kudos here go to Paul Dini's _The Brave and the Bold_ , issue 33, whose Zatanna shows so much care for Barbara that we just felt there had to be more to the story. Additional props go to Adam Hughes, whose "The Real Power of the DC Universe" poster hangs in our living room and suggested the white-tie magic show. Seriously, if you don't have a copy, go get one. Right now. Go!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Если цветы, то - свидание](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051395) by [Tykki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tykki/pseuds/Tykki)




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